Page 140 of Tiny Fractures

“I get it, Dad,” Steve says. “Sometimes you meet a person you just can’t stay away from. I bet if you asked Ran, he’d agree with you wholeheartedly,” he adds with a small smile at me.

“I can definitely agree,” I say, and Frank looks at me, his eyes soft.

Steve finally walks to the small loveseat and sits down with his elbows on his knees while he studies his dad. “I want to meet her,” he says.

Frank looks slightly taken aback as he studies his son. “Really?”

Steve nods. “Yeah. I mean, it sounds like she’s important to you. Like, you called her ‘baby,’ and… I mean… I’d like to meet her. I think that’s only fair, right?” he adds, his eyebrows raised.

Frank analyzes his son for a long moment before he nods hesitantly. “Yeah, I think it is only fair.”

“Okay. Have her come visit,” Steve says.

“Okay,” Frank acquiesces.

Steve pushes up off the sofa, then finally moves to join me by Ronan’s bedside. “I can’t believe you were right,” Steve tells Ronan, chuckling quietly. “I don’t know how you always figure these things out, man,” he adds, stroking his hand over Ronan’s hair. He glances at me. “He told me months ago that he thought my dad was having an affair, but I just waved him off. I thought Ran was full of shit, but…” He gives another rueful chuckle.

“But he was right,” I say.

He nods. “Yeah. I wish I was as discerning as Ran. Maybe then I would have realized something was wrong at home,” Steve chokes, looking down.

I reach over Ronan and take Steve’s hand, giving it a squeeze. “Not your fault,” I remind him once again.

***

I spend my afternoon like the last, sitting by Ronan’s bedside, holding his hand, talking to him. I trade off with Steve, Frank, and then Shane when he arrives at the hospital a little while later, looking as exhausted as the rest of us.

“Listen, guys, I have to head out for a couple of hours. I have an appointment with a lawyer,” Frank says as he gets up from the chair next to Ronan’s bed, which he’s been occupying for the last thirty minutes. I’ve been sitting on the small loveseat, leaning against Steve, who’s been watching a hockey game with Shane.

Steve raises his eyebrows at his dad. “A divorce lawyer?” he asks, voicing my own suspicions.

Frank nods. “Yeah. I made the appointment last week, not knowing that… that we would be here today, but I want to see what I can do to expedite this whole thing,” Frank explains. “I’m so sorry, Steve.”

Steve just shrugs, too exhausted to dive further into it.

So, after Frank heads out, Steve, Shane, and I just sit, trading off holding vigil next to Ronan’s bed until Vada and Tori arrive with food. Steve and I eat while Shane sits with Ronan, telling him—and probably mostly us—a funny story about something that happened at Murphy’s earlier today and how Ronan would have had a great time.

Ronan’s nurse comes in every hour to check his vitals, to administer medication, or to hook him up to more saline. Frank returns, and at just after ten Shane and Tori drive me home after Steve falls asleep on the loveseat.

Tuesday, August 31st

Cat

School is nothing but draining, and the hoped-for distraction is elusive because no matter where I turn, someone is always whispering, pointing, asking questions. I’m standing in the hallway with Vada and Tori between classes when two girls approach and stop right in front of us.

“Is it true that you’re with Ran?” one of them asks me while the other looks me up and down, eyebrows raised.

“She sure is,” Vada snaps back, her right hip popped out, hands on her waist. “You got an issue with that?”

The girl glowers at Vada for a moment before she returns her attention to me. “I heard he got his ass kicked and is in the hospital because of you,” she says. “Maybe stay away from him so, you know, he can live.” The girl shrugs, then pulls her friend with her as she walks away.

“What?” I mutter, totally confused by this nonsense the girl was spewing. I look to Vada and Tori for an explanation.

“Fucking bitch,” Vada huffs. “Spreading all these bullshit rumors. It pisses me off.”

“I’ve heard various iterations of this rumor already,” Tori sighs. “One version is that Ran got into a fight at a party. Another is that he got jumped after work. I even heard one where he got in a car accident because he was drunk after you two got into a fight,” she tells me. “The common thread in these stories is always that whatever happened to Ran happened because of you—because you two got in a fight or he was defending you or whatever.”

“Who’s starting these rumors?” I ask, feeling tense. These past few days have been draining enough, and the last thing I want or need is to have to defend against some gossip. I’ve been the target of whispering and talking before, and it’s as uncomfortable now as it was then.

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